


One Life

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Metacrisis Ninth Doctor, Pete's World, Post-Episode AU: s04e13 Journey's End, Romance, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-28 05:17:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The sheer impossibility of this entire situation was enough to make her head hurt and convince her she was dreaming. But the ache in her gut and the pain wrenching her chest told her this was not a memory. This was now. Somehow, this was happening.





	One Life

Her blonde hair twisted into knots as the chilly, Norwegian wind whipped around her head. It dried the bitter tears on her cheeks, leaving nothing but salty tracks and dry skin in their wake. Waves crashed onto the beach behind her and drowned out the retreating swish of pinstriped trousers in the other direction. 

Not that she would have heard it, anyway. She was too distracted to hear the soft squish of footprints in the sand, nor the quiet, familiar creak of blue doors as they closed for the last time in her life.   
  


Lips she had once kissed in a dream (or maybe it was a memory) filled with gold were currently pressed against hers, beseeching her to believe a confession whispered moments ago. Arms and hands she hadn’t seen in what seemed like an eternity were crushing her ribcage so tightly she could barely draw a breath in her lungs. But breathing seemed a paltry concern as she moulded herself against the man she had thought she’d lost long ago, stretching up until her toes barely brushed the beach beneath her.   
  


So lost was she in the warmth of his embrace, in the tingling sensation of his fingers finding the sensitive spot of skin at the base of her neck, she barely heard the whine and groan of the Tardis disappearing from Dårlig Ulv Stranden forever.   
  


But she did hear it. Just.   
  


Her wounded heart skipped a beat and she ripped herself away from the man in her arms, sprinting towards the fading blue box as it shimmered once before vanishing into thin air. All that remained was a square imprint, but this too was slowly fading as the wind cruelly filled the outline with sand. One grain at a time erased all the traces of the man she loved, of the home she loved, from the universe she was trapped in.   
  


Rage simmered in her veins and her eyes slowly filling with more tears, obscuring the landscape until it was nothing but an abstract painting. She had punched a hole through hundreds of universes, risked her life countless times, seen horrors she dared not speak of, only to be abandoned on this damn beach —  _ again _ .   
  


A warm hand (not cool) touched her palm and she gasped in a lungful of air. Familiar fingers threaded through hers, tugging gently until she rubbed against the leather of a well-worn jacket. Her eyes refocused and sharpened, taking in the details of a calloused thumb lightly sweeping across her knuckles. Her gaze traveled up the length of his arm, his shoulder, to his neck, his jaw, until she met the achingly beautiful blue eyes she’d never imagined she would ever see again. Eyes currently filled with cautious hope.   
  


He hadn’t abandoned her, not really. He was here, physically warming her chilled bones with the heat from his part-human body. But he was also flying away from her, ripping her heart in two as she remembered his cowardly last words to her:   _ Does it need saying _ ?     
  


It would probably haunt her forever.   
  


But  _ this _ man, the half-human beside her, had told her the three words she had ached to hear for years. And she had flung herself willingly into his open arms, kissing him in a desperation he had met and matched.   
  


The sheer impossibility of this entire situation was enough to make her head hurt and convince her she was dreaming. But the ache in her gut and the pain wrenching her chest told her this was not a memory. This was now. Somehow, this was happening.   
  


The Doctor gently squeezed her fingers, and Rose snapped out of her ruminations.   
  


He was staring at her, not daring to be the first to speak. His mouth was stretched into a thin line and his brow wrinkled with worry as though he were trying to decide if she was going to accept or reject him.   
  


Rose swallowed. “This is…” she halted mid-thought, grasping for a way to process this impossible circumstance, “weird. Even for us.”    
  


A tiny grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “Yes, it is.” Some of the tension left his shoulders and he readjusted the grip on her fingers to hold them tighter. “What d’you want to do?”   
  


“I…” she paused again as words failed her. But then her stomach grumbled, starved since her last meal ages ago, and she was abruptly reminded of the end of the world. “I want chips.”   
  


He chuckled and searched the beach that stretched for miles in all directions. “Not sure where we’ll find chips just now.” With a slight frown, he patted his trouser pockets. “Forgot me wallet.”   
  


Despite the fact that her entire world had just collapsed before her eyes, Rose smiled tremulously. “What sort of date are you?”   
  


~*~   
  


For the first time in years, she allowed her body to relax, to succumb to its crippling exhaustion, and laid her head on the Doctor’s shoulder on the zeppelin ride back to London. She was still confused and numb, which made for poor conversation, so she listened to him talk to her mum. The northern cadence of his speech and the familiar smell of him soothed her as he explained the meta-crisis, the astronomical chances of it happening, and the even more minuscule probability that his lobbed off hand would have grown into a previous version of himself.   
  


“Never thought I’d have this face again.” She felt him shake his head as he muttered, “Still not ginger, though.”   
  


Even though she was barely coherent and too lethargic to keep her eyes open, she mumbled, “Don’t think even ginger would hide those ears.”   
  


“Oi!”   
  


Jackie cackled and Rose sluggishly lifted her head to meet the Doctor’s gaze. She bit her lip to reign in a fit of giggles she hadn’t released in ages. His lips twitched in amusement as he tried, and failed, to appear affronted by her assessment.   
  


In a move at odds with this face but in character with the man in the pinstriped suit, he bopped her on the nose. “What’re you tryin’ to say?”   
  


She offered him a soft smile, comforted by the normality of the banter. “Nothin’.”   
  


With an excuse of needing the loo, Jackie stood and left Rose alone with the Doctor. A calm settled over the zeppelin cabin, neither one of them knowing what to say.  As the silence stretched on, she realized it was the first time she had been alone with him since she had clung for her life on a lever. Since she had slipped and fallen into this universe.   
  


The Doctor cleared his throat awkwardly and lifted a hand to tousle his hair. But he paused, fingers dancing in the air as he remembered it was no longer sticky-uppy. He dropped his hand instead, wiping his palm on his trousers. “Sorry. Guess I'm not a pretty boy anymore.”   
  


Her eyes traveled over his face and he squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable under the close scrutiny. “I never said you weren't pretty.”   
  


A daft grin that she knew well, the first one she fell in love with, lit up his face. “You take that back.”   
  


~*~   
  


For convenience’s sake, Rose lived in a flat by Torchwood Tower. She had been so obsessed with the Dimension Canon and returning to the Doctor she would often sleep in her office and not return to the mansion. Her mum had become worried and insisted she allow Pete to purchase the two-bedroom for her near work. So she had used the space for sleep and showers only, never bothering to make it feel like home (because it wasn’t).   
  


But now, with the Doctor standing as the only decoration in the small foyer, she realized how spartan it was. There was barely any furniture, and she couldn’t recall the last time she had shopped for groceries.   
  


“So…” the Doctor swept his eyes around the area, taking in the bare walls and lone couch, “this is home?”   
  


Rose shrugged and dropped a few bags onto the kitchen counter. They had briefly stopped by the shops to get him the bare necessities, but she now realized they’d need more supplies if he were staying with her.   
  


Although, that was rather presumptuous of her, wasn’t it? She hadn’t actually asked if he wanted to live here with her. What if he wanted to be alone? And, even though she still wasn’t quite sure how to deal with the Doctor being here and  _ not _ here at the same time, she found herself oddly frightened he would choose to venture out on his own. Away from her.    
  


“Yeah, I guess.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and chewed on her lip. “That is… if you want?”   
  


“Weeeeell…” he dragged out the word, much like his pinstriped self was prone to (an odd thing to hear from the man in leather), “I suppose that depends.”   
  


“On what?”   
  


With an easy grin, he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, mimicking the alluring pose he had used while flirting with her in the past (actions she hadn’t recognized until much later, until it was too late and he had burst into flames).   
  


“On whether or not you’ll be here. I’m happy to live here, it’s cozy enough but, if you planned on it bein’ just me…” His confidence faltered and he broke his gaze to stare at the floor, voice lowering to a soft pitch, “I missed you, on the Tardis. Missed your burnt toast. Drove Donna spare tryin’ to make tea like you did. Or that fantastic banana puddin’. Got used to the smell of your shampoo and body lotion.” He paused to take in a long breath. “It faded. Never could recreate it.”   
  


Her eyes stung as she envisioned him in the Tardis, wandering the halls on his own. “Strawberries and vanilla.” He met her gaze again as she continued, “My shampoo was strawberry scented and I think my lotion was mainly vanilla.”   
  


“Strawberry and vanilla?” he repeated and she nodded with a smile. “S’pose that’s basically pink and yellow. Should’ve known.”   
  


She giggled. “And I have a toaster.” She gestured to the appliance behind him, laughing louder at the delighted look that spread across his face. “Feel free to burn all the toast you want.”   
  


“Brilliant!”   
  


Rose watched as he whipped out a sonic screwdriver (he must have nicked one before they were abandoned here) and immediately started tinkering to “improve” the toaster. Warmth bloomed in her chest to see him making himself at home in a place she never thought would be home.   
  


Maybe it just needed him.   
  


“And yes,” she blurted over the whirring of the screwdriver.   
  


He turned from his work. “Sorry?”   
  


“Yes, I’ll be livin’ here.”   
  


Disregarding his toaster project, he set the sonic on the counter and swept her into a joyous hug. “Fantastic.”   
  


~*~   
  


Two nights later, Rose woke up screaming and drenched head to toe in a cold sweat. Before she could process her nightmare, her bedroom door flew open and a pair of strong arms encircled her. She stared at the white wall across from her bed (she had never bothered to slap paint on the sheetrock and erase the dreaded color) and drew in long, deep breaths as someone else counted and murmured in her ear.   
  


She finally focused on the world around her and realized it was the Doctor who was gently rocking her back and forth on the mattress, patiently instructing her through her panic attack.   
  


“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly   
  


It was an odd sort of reverse déjà vu. There had been many nights aboard the Tardis where she had stumbled upon him in the throes of his own horror-filled dream (in both bodies). She had sat with him, holding his hand, until the hell inside his mind faded, and he’d brush away her concerns with false cheer.   
  


Rose wiped her eyes and found his silhouette in the dark; not the silhouette she had been chasing in her dream, through hundreds of dimensions, but still, impossibly, the same man.   
  


She slowly shook her head. “I was tryin’ to find you… landed in the wrong universe.”   
  


His frown was visible in the inky blackness of her room. “How many parallel worlds did you jump to?”   
  


She averted her eyes. “I lost count after fifty-six.”   
  


He drew in a pained breath and gathered her into his arms once more. “Oh, Rose.”   
  


She allowed him to pull her back down, laying her head on his chest and settling under the covers. It was comfortable, more comfortable than she’d been in years. It was also the first time he had ever gotten into bed with her. She suddenly felt naked, even though she was fully clothed in a fleece pajama set.   
  


But the Doctor was clad in nothing but his pants.   
  


“Doctor?” she whispered.    
  


“Yes, Rose?”   
  


“You’re only wearin’ pants.”   
  


“Oh, um…” he tensed beneath her, “not quite used to this warmer body. I can change.”   
  


He started to disentangle his arms from her, but she stopped him, panicking at the thought of him leaving her side. “No! No, s’alright.”   
  


Nodding once, he resumed his position, snuggling her tighter against his chest and lightly pressing his lips on the top of her head.   
  


After a few moments, Rose whispered once more, “Doctor?”   
  


“Yes, Rose?”   
  


“Are those bananas on your pants?”   
  


His lips twitched into a sheepish smile. “Yes.”   
  


Unable to stop herself, Rose broke out into a fit of giggles. He joined in until her sides hurt and she had to gasp to breathe. When she finally settled down and teased him once more for his fruit addiction, he spooned his chest to her back and wound an arm around her waist to thread their fingers together.   
  


“Rose?”   
  


“Yes, Doctor?”   
  


He was silent for a few moments, as if he were gathering his thoughts. “You made me better. I can do the same for you… If you want.”   
  


She smiled in the dark and tightened her hold on his palm. “Ok.”   
  


~*~   
  


They joined Torchwood as part-time consultants but left the field work to others. Now that the Doctor couldn’t regenerate, he didn’t want to needlessly risk his fragile biology. Instead, he found a job as a physics professor at the local university, delighting in the prospect of nurturing young minds.   
  


Since she had spent years working and not spending any money, Rose had a nice nest-egg to fall back on. She invested the bulk of her past earnings and decided to spend her free-time painting. Soon, she was filling the flat with canvas after canvas of galaxies and planets from their travels, using nothing but her memories to bring them to life with a brush.   
  


The Doctor knocked on the door of her studio and she swiveled away from her current project. He lifted the mugs in his hands, apologizing for interrupting her. “Thought you might like some tea.”   
  


“Ta.” She gestured to an empty spot by her palette and he placed the hot beverage down.   
  


Rose resumed painting, assuming he would be leaving, but his shadow stayed in place across the pile of paint by her elbow. When she turned back around, he was staring at the stars dotting the inky purples and blues on the surface, eyes unfocused and lost in thought.   
  


“What is it?” she asked.   
  


He blinked and shook his head, lowering his gaze with a frown. “I’m sorry I never told you I loved you before… all this. I was scared.”   
  


Her brush halted in mid-air and her heart stuttered briefly. Perhaps it was the part-human in him or the fact that he was free from his universal obligations, but he was more open now than he had ever been before. Even though she hadn’t confessed her feelings for him since the first time she had been left on that damn beach, he said it constantly, as if he were making up for lost time. And every time he said it, it never failed to catch her off guard, to simultaneously bring her joy and sadness.   
  


He never complained when she didn’t return his sentiment, as if he understood her hesitation. She wanted to say it back, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the other man out there, the Time Lord forever separated from her by unbreachable universal walls.   
  


“S’ok,” she mumbled, keeping her wet eyes fixed on the various hues of the galaxy she was attempting to recreate. “I was scared, too.”   _ Still am _ , she added to herself.    
  


“Rose?” He waited until she turned around on her stool to face him and frowned more when he caught her wiping away a lone tear. “It needs sayin’. It  _ always _ needs sayin’.”    
  


~*~   
  


Rose lingered on a bench outside the shop for the Doctor, mindlessly chewing on too-salty chips. He still needed more clothing since he didn’t have the Tardis magically providing him with garments at the touch of a button. She wanted to join him, knew he wanted her to, but she was too lost in her own thoughts to be of any help.   
  


After three months, she was still scared. What if she opened her heart to him and he left…  _ again _ ? Pushing her away seemed to be his modus operandi and, while this him showed no signs of leaving her yet, she couldn’t help but wonder when she’d be deserted once more. Surely, his wanderlust and hatred of domestics would kick in at any moment and he’d be hopping on the first zeppelin (or spaceship) out of town.   
  


A throat cleared, interrupting her thoughts, and a Northern accent filled her ears. “I got you something.”   
  


She stopped mid-chew and relocated her gaze from the cracked tile on the floor to the pink fabric held in front of the Doctor’s chest. Embellished on the front of a pink, short-sleeved t-shirt were the words, “Rosé the day away.”   
  


The half-chewed chip fell out of her mouth as she gaped at it.   
  


The blatant normalcy of it, him picking out clothing for her, was startling. But it was also utterly ridiculous, something she could picture him snatching off a rack in an alien market, bouncing on his toes as he insisted she wear it.   
  


And she suddenly realized what she’d be missing all along — he wasn’t going anywhere. 

 

He may have complained endlessly in the past about domestics and staying in one spot but, for   _ her _ , he did those things. Even while travelling on a bigger-on-the-inside ship, he made her tea, watched movies, and cooked her breakfast. When they were exploring another world, he held her hand and happily searched for bits and baubles to decorate their home. Only couples did those things, people fully entrenched in the sappy, domestic trappings of love.    
  


And here he was, again, out and about at the shops on a mundane Sunday afternoon, being domestic and buying her clothing. Everything he did with her was dreadfully domestic, even when it had been tinted by the splendor of outer space. He wanted to be exactly where he was — with her.   
  


The Doctor fidgeted on the spot as she continued to stare at him, and he glanced down at the shirt pinched between his fingers. “Couldn’t help meself. Thought it was amusin’. I can return it, but I thought you might like the laugh. I know it’s not  _ technically _ your name, but I certainly agree with—”    
  


She cut him off mid-ramble as she leapt to her feet and planted her mouth firmly against his for the first time since that damn beach months ago. The shirt fell to the floor as he wrapped his arms tightly around her middle, meeting the fervent pace of her lips.   
  


The kiss slowed down and she pulled away to gasp in a breath, resting her forehead against his cheek. “I love you.”   
  


She felt the daft smile as it stretched across his face, and he hummed happily in the back of his throat. “I love you, too.”   
  


~*~   
  


A shiver raced up Rose’s spine and goosebumps pricked her skin in the dark of the hotel suite. The sheet slid up her bare thigh as the Doctor cocooned the fabric around their sweat-chilled bodies, planting soft kisses on her arm before he settled comfortably next to her. She smiled, burrowed against his shoulder, and lifted a hand to trace the features of his face.   
  


He chuckled as her fingers danced along his neck and snatched her hand to cradle it on his chest. “That tickles, ya know.”   
  


“I know.” Her grin widened as she curled her tongue between her teeth. “Consider it payback. When you said we were goin’ to Barcelona, I thought I’d see something other than our room.”   
  


“We’ve got all the time in the world.” He kissed her palm and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “We’ll see the sights tomorrow.”   
  


Rose sighed and closed her eyes, feeling a sense of long-lost peace wash over her. But there was still one thing nagging her, one little detail she needed to know. Now, with adrenaline still flowing in her veins, erasing her fears, she found the courage to ask.   
  


“Doctor?”   
  


“Yes, love?”   
  


“One time you told me you could see all that was, all that ever could be.” She felt him swallow heavily as she paused. “Did you ever see this?”   
  


“No, not really,” he reluctantly admitted.   
  


Rose twisted to rest her chin on his chest and met his eyes in the dim lighting. “Not really?   
  


“Tricky business, timelines. I may have boasted a bit when I said I could see all that was. I can’t see everything, couldn’t see your future. Scared me, that.” He lifted a hand to run his fingers through her hair. “But even if I could see it, I don’t think I’d have ever believed the universe decided to grant me my one wish.”   
  


Her brow furrowed. “Your one wish?”   
  


A daft grin spread across his face. He re-situated their bodies so he could face her fully and relocated his palm to cradle her cheek. “You, Rose Tyler. A simple life, a quiet life, where I get to love and grow old with you. I’d never get this chance as a full Time Lord.”   
  


Moisture gathered her eyes and she turned her head to kiss his palm. “I love you, too.”   
  


“And now I get to say it all the time. I love you.” He kissed her forehead. “I love you.” He kissed her nose. “I love you.” He bent his head to nibble playfully on her neck, scratching her skin with the scruff on his cheek.   
  


Rose giggled and attempted to push him away. “So you’re happy to grow old?”   
  


“Oh, yes!” He pulled her closer and resumed tickling her neck with his lips.   
  


She scrunched her nose. “I’ll get all wrinkly.”   
  


“And there’ll be a story behind every wrinkle.”   
  


“My hair will go gray.”    
  


“Nah, more like hair sparkle!”   
  


She laughed and combed her fingers through his short hair, humming in thought while he journeyed down her chest. “What about kids?”   
  


After a wet smack to her sternum, he lifted his head to meet her eye. “The more the better.”   
  


“Really?”   
  


“Livin’, breathin’ evidence that I love you with every fibre of my being? Absolutely.”   
  


Her heart swelled and she bit her lip on a grin, wondering what she had done to deserve the man in her arms. She’d always love and miss the Time Lord and her old life among the stars. However, with every brush of his lips against her ribs, with every  _ I love you _ whispered against her skin, she thanked the madman in the blue box. He had given them a true forever, one they couldn’t have had before. But now, they could build a life together, maybe even grow their own Tardis, and never have to fear mismatched lifespans.   
  


Rose poked his side teasingly. “Kids are the pinnacle of domestic, ya know.”   
  


The Doctor took her hand and captured her lips in a slow, toe-curling kiss, only pulling away when her lungs burned for air. And he smiled again, full of hope and giddy enthusiasm. “Fantastic.”  
  
  
  
  



End file.
